Of Blood and Brotherhood
by Chrisii
Summary: Episode Tag: 3x19 and 3x20. In which Kol's grief is highlighted and Klaus helps him through the ordeal. "Kol felt his jaw drop slightly, hindered by the dried blood on his chin. Her blood. It was on his chin, smeared around his mouth, dried on his shirt. She was everywhere."


**Of Blood and Brotherhood.**

Some of the blood dribbled down his chin but he didn't care. He had enough of it filling his mouth, sliding smoothly down his throat to satisfy his immensely hungry stomach. Blood hadn't tasted this good since being resurrected and Kol felt relieved; Maybe this would help him cope with the urge to devour his girlfriend.

He couldn't get enough of it. His victim's pulse thundered in his ears before slowly fading away to fluttering thumps as he continued to suck the blood out of the mostly lifeless husk.

He couldn't bring himself to care. It was just too good.

Kol had nearly sucked the victim dry before he felt full enough to pull back and relish the feeling of a full stomach and the subsequent euphoria that came with satisfying his hunger.

The euphoria promptly diminished when he caught sight of the elegant neck in front of him. A very familiar cascade of brown hair hid his hand, the soft tresses not even getting tangled when he ran his fingers through them. Her blood was smeared across the necklace that always adorned her neck and Kol immediately felt like throwing up when he realised just who his victim was.

He didn't have to raise her head.  
Didn't have to peer into her lifeless eyes.  
Didn't have to try feeding her his blood.  
He didn't have to do anything to know that he had just killed his one true love.  
However, that didn't stop him from trying, from living his next few moments in denial.

"Davina? No, no, no! Wake up, Davina. Wake up!"

She couldn't listen to his pleas. Couldn't hear him sobbing in her ear, begging her to rejoin him. She couldn't wrap her tiny arms around his waist and hold him there, willingly entrapped within her embrace. She couldn't make everything better; Couldn't help him tame the beast inside of him.

Davina was dead.  
She was gone.  
He had killed her.

* * *

Kol carefully scooped her body in his arms but couldn't bring himself to take more than a couple of steps. Her body felt infinitely heavier than all the weight he could carry. It was a burden that had been imposed on him by the ancestors. A burden which he deserved. Did he, really?

Kol gazed down at his precious cargo and felt his knees give out when her utter stillness truly sunk in. He let himself collapse against the bar and tentatively gathered her in his arms, making sure to slide her eyes shut before arranging her head so that it was resting comfortably on his shoulder.

It was like the too little times they had cuddled, except now she was not soaking in his warmth and love.

Now she was cooling and not breathing.  
So very dead.  
And it was all because of him.

Kol ran his fingers through her hair once again before burying his face in her shoulder and allowing himself to sob. He was ruining her favourite jacket, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

She certainly wasn't in a position to care.  
He would love to hear her complain and grouch about his tears.  
'You're 1000 years old and you still cry when someone gets you chocolates?'  
He had kissed that teasing grin off her mouth before she could draw in another breath.  
Or steal one of his chocolates.

He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. Here he was, after sucking her dry, thinking of a box of chocolate that she had given him. The mirth faded away as quickly as it had come when the miserable reality brought heavy steps to his ears.

Booted steps.  
Marcel.  
He was going to kill him.

* * *

Marcel couldn't bring himself to wonder why he could only hear one heartbeat in the magic-proofed bar instead of two. He didn't pause to think before approaching the entrance and seeing the couple cuddling on the floor.

Kol's sobs reached his ears before his mind accepted what he was seeing.

His puzzlement twisted into fury and Marcel couldn't find it in himself to pity the shaky original in front of him. He couldn't bring himself to show a shred of concern on how Kol was wavering on his feet, almost as if he couldn't support his own weight. He couldn't bring himself to notice how for once, the cocky vampire is as silent as a mouse – unable to find words.

Kol's mouth opens and closes when Marcel asks him what he had done, but no words come forth. He can see the regret, the bitterness, the self-hatred, and the misery, but he can't bring himself to care.

Not when Davina was lying dead just three steps away from him.  
Not when his protégé was dead.  
Not when he realised that he had failed the girl yet again.  
Not when he realised that he couldn't make this right.

"I was out of my head; I never would have hurt her. I made her dagger me. Nothing worked!"

Kol's words were barely recognisable among the sobs and tears, but Marcel didn't want to hear his reasons. His excuses.

No, he wanted revenge.

Kol doesn't shift when Marcel stands up, almost as if he is anticipating a dressing down; he was more than used to them. A dressing down would not bring Marcel any satisfaction.

He takes a few small steps, letting down Kol's guard, before charging him with all the strength that he could muster.

* * *

Kol didn't even attempt to defend himself when Marcel struck him down. It was better than collapsing at his feet because he simply could not hold his own weight. Honestly, at this point, he couldn't bring himself to care. Marcel was more than right to beat him up. At least the physical pain might distract him from the emotional pain that threatened to destroy him from the inside out.

If only it could bring Davina back; then Kol would take a lifetime of beatings to live even a few more hours by her side.

It was tempting to remain lying on the floor but Kol forced himself to at least support his body on his hands and knees. His resolve crumbled when he caught sight of the remorseful look on Marcel's face – Kol had known Davina for way less than Marcel did, so how much of Kol's raw agony was Marcel feeling? But-

"I loved her. I swear I did!" His words were garbled and spoken around the lumps in Kol's throat, but he couldn't bring himself to care. From his position, he could see Davina's face turned towards the ceiling; Beautiful. young. Smeared with her own blood.

His elbows gave out and Kol didn't stop himself from curling on the floor; nobody was going to hug and console him, so he might as well hug himself. But his own arms couldn't hold him together – only Davina was able to do that. At least, she had been able to do that before the ancestors got the best of him.

He only had himself to blame for losing control; for murdering his only attempt at salvation.

"Get up."

Kol only raised his head – Marcel's tone made it impossible to ignore him completely. In a hilarious turn of events, Kol supposed that Marcel had learnt that from Klaus, back in the day. Back when they were sure of his allegiance. Well, Davina trusted him so Kol would trust him.

"Get up!"

There it was again; the authority. Centuries of being spoken down to forced Kol to push himself to his feet even if the room spun around him and he could barely hear past the (her) blood roaring in his ears and the repetitive mantra of 'I killed her. I murdered her. I sucked her dry after she trusted me.' Kol huffed slightly; no wonder people didn't usually trust him.

"This is not over. This is New Orleans; witches can be brought back from the dead and that is exactly what we're going to do!"

Marcel sounded so certain that Kol momentarily forgot his grief. He had forgotten that slight loophole in being a witch. Sure, they couldn't heal or run faster than sound or bend metal with their hands, but their soul remained tethered to the earth in ways that no other soul could.

He could bring her back.

* * *

"Prepare her body. Come with me."

Kol would have murdered Marcel if he wasn't one of the two people on his side at the moment. Hadn't Marcel known Klaus and Elijah for almost as long as he had been alive? How could he think that Kol's 'family' would help?

Davina seemed so peaceful that Kol would have left her dead if it weren't for the fact that the ancestors would destroy her and he wanted her by his side again. Would she trust him again? Probably not. He wouldn't blame her.

But at least she'd still be enjoying her life.

* * *

"Today, I need your help." Marcel was downright murderous and Kol feels himself cowering back despite the fact that Marcel was on his side and Kol was at least ten times stronger than him. At least, he was stronger when he had the slightest inclination to actually lift a finger in a fight.

He was stronger when he had something –someone- to fight for.

"And you shall have it. Come on Kol, let's get you cleaned up."

Elijah's refusal to help was no surprise, but Klaus' tenderness and compassion was definitely a shocker. Kol feels his jaw drop slightly, hindered by the dried blood on his chin. Her blood. It was on his chin, smeared around his mouth, dried on his shirt. She was everywhere.

There was a basin under his chin and a hand on his shoulder and suddenly he was throwing it all up. That which had tasted heavenly going down tasted like something directly from the sewers coming back up. It burned his throat and left a murky taste on his tongue and Kol couldn't bring anything more up even if he tried.

The hand on his shoulder drifted away, much like everything that Kol had ever loved. They all disappeared; chased away by the monstrosity hidden beneath his charisma and playful persona. In some ways, Kol supposed he was no better than Elijah – He hid behind suits, Kol hid behind fake grins and empty laughter.

Someone was guiding his arms up and Kol couldn't find it in himself to fight him, whoever he was, as his shirt was removed. A vampire couldn't feel cold, but Kol felt a shiver go through him when the fabric was completely stripped away and dropped to the side, much like he had dropped Davina after sucking her dry.

It was as lifeless as her.

There was a warm washcloth on his face, wiping away the evidence of his sins. A gentle hand grabbed his chin and manoeuvred his head from side to side, wiping away what specs of blood remained.

Blood that never should have been on his face in the first place.

"Kol?"

This voice wasn't authoritative – it was inquisitive, soft, welcoming almost. As welcoming as Davina had been after resurrecting him.

"She's gone."

He had to accept it. She wasn't going to come back – He could feel it in his gut and his gut was rarely wrong. She was gone and she was never going to come back. Kol was doomed –always had been-, to spend the rest of his eternity alone, comforted by the cold arms of hired girls and the unsatisfying burn of alcohol to pass the days.

"She's gone."

The words got stuck in his throat and came out garbled, but they were understood. Kol felt warm arms embrace him, gather him up in some sort of safe haven; the likes of which he had not felt in centuries. It was a brotherly hug; an all-encompassing warmth that assured him he was understood and that he wouldn't be made fun of. Of course he wouldn't- Klaus had just lost Camille. The arms tightened around him when Kol tried to pull back and Kol knew that Klaus didn't want the focus to shift. For now, Kol was the one that needed the comfort. He was never good at dealing with strong emotions on his own.

"It's okay to cry, brother."

Kol didn't need any further prompting. The first sob was quiet. The next was louder but dry. The third was muted by Klaus' jacket but the tears wouldn't stop. Kol felt the pull of the ancestors gradually ooze away as the misery and raw pain enveloped him completely, pushing him under a wave of despair and horror unlike which he barely remembered. His throat was sore and his eyes burned but Kol couldn't stop. Not now. Not when he could finally feel what his life was going to be like.

Klaus' hands traced meaningless patterns on his bare back, soothing in their repetitive motions.

Too bad they couldn't rub the guilt away.  
Or the misery.  
Or the agony.

Kol felt his energy wane as the time passed but Klaus remained a steady presence; his arms never once loosening their hold. It was the only thing keeping him from collapsing to the floor and for that Kol was grateful.

He was surprised when he was suddenly lifted in a bridal carry and dumped graciously on the bed, but couldn't find it in himself to react besides a barely audible oomph.

* * *

"You need to rest, brother. Trust me, I'll be here." Klaus gently removed Kol's boots before settling next to him, allowing the younger sibling to cuddle with him in a rare show of affection. It was something of their childhood, to cuddle with each other when the sadness got too great, but Klaus still treasured it immensely. Apparently, Kol still liked it as well.

Despite the animosity between them, Klaus still couldn't help but grieve for his brother. He wouldn't wish what he was experiencing on his worst enemy, let alone his younger brother. Watching Kol as his masks dropped completely was something that Klaus hated to experience, but it happened every once in a while without their other siblings knowing.

He brushed Kol's hair aside, threading his fingers through the soft tendrils until he made sure that Kol was asleep. He slipped from Kol's grasp and quickly disposed of the blood that Kol had thrown up before fetching another bag and leaving it on the bedside table, knowing that it would help Kol gather back his physical strength at the very least.

Klaus grabbed a blanket and threw it over his brother, making sure that Kol was fully covered before gently closing the door of the bedroom. Despite the show of vulnerability, he knew that Kol detested waking up after an episode and finding his brother still in the room with him.

He needed time to construct and put on his masks again, and Klaus couldn't blame him.  
It was safer to hide behind a mask than show your true self most of the time.  
It was safer to deceive yourself than know the truly horrifying acts you were capable of doing.

But for now, it was calming to know that Kol was resting. Klaus had no doubt that nightmares would plague his sleep, but he needed the slight rest nonetheless.

Klaus could hold down the reins for now – nobody had to know what happened between them.

* * *

 **Hi!**

 **1) Any lines you recognise are directly quoted from the show (3x19 and 3x20) - I do not own them.  
2) I do not own the show nor am I making any profit from this.  
3) Hope you liked this little ficlet I made with regards to 3x19/20! Nathaniel was amazing at portraying Kol's grief and it broke me in pieces, so I had to write something about it XD  
4) Considering the rivalry between them, I still think that Klaus would be there for all of his brothers/sisters should they need him, hence the little scene in the end.  
5) Feel free to leave your opinions in the review box; I do not bite even if you do not agree with something I wrote, which is a perfectly normal reaction. I do love to see different POVs!  
6) Well, nothing much more to say: Thanks for reading this and I appreciate each and every one of you!**

 **Kudos,  
Chrisii. **


End file.
